Love For A Serpent
by ShadowWolf181
Summary: It's not simple to escape a sociopath, especially one who is obsessed with making you stay forever. Unfortunately, Sora learns this the hard way. M for violence and physical/emotional abuse.
1. A Mysterious Stranger

**A/N: **Okay, so this idea came to me when I was reading up on an anime named "Durarara!" and I was very absorbed with the character Izaya Orihara. So far I haven't written any stories with characters with mental disorders (as far as I know) and recalled my deep interest in them. Thus, I decided to try and write a story where one of my characters suffered from Anti-Social Personality Disorder. I did as much research on the subject as I could for an exhausted writer, so I apologize ahead of time for any discrepancies or inaccurate characteristics of one with this disorder. I'm not accustomed to writing these types of stories so please bear with me and enjoy!

OOO

Sora Hikari sat on the edge of the beach belonging to Destiny Islands, gazing out at the vast ocean of clear blue. No matter how hard he tried the tears would not comply in ceasing their relentless streaming. Crystal blue waves crashed softly against the sand, relieving his naked feet from the hot summer day, and transporting seashells and forgotten Papou fruit to their final destination between the fragile border of sea and earth.

Sora picked up a Papou fruit and contemplated its meaning. Legend said that if two people shared one, their destinies would become intertwined. They'll remain a part of each other's lives no matter what. Did that include after death? Part of him wanted to say it was bullshit—the legend, the destiny. All of it meant nothing. But maybe having a belief, though, no matter how ridiculous, is better than grieving in loss with no forthcoming end. As Sora considered how simple it is to drown in one's own sorrow, he also considered a physical drowning—a separation of one's mind and body as they drifted into the watery depths.

"What are you doing?"

Lost far in rampant emotions, Sora failed to notice the handsome young man that suddenly crouched beside him, messing around with seashells that came and went with the ocean's tide. Embarrassed by crying silently in front of this stranger, he turned his head and rubbed the tears away with the back of his shirt collar. This boy appeared to be a year older than him and a few inches taller, his shoulder-length platinum hair and radiant jade eyes being the most prominent features.

"I'm not doing anything, other than staring at the ocean," replied Sora. His voice sounded weak and pathetic, and he cleared his throat while reprimanding himself for being so distracted.

"Then why were you crying?" asked the stranger.

"I'm not. I wasn't," was Sora's adamant response.

"Don't lie. Didn't your mother teach you that?" The boy spoke in an almost admonishing tone a mother would give her child, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes all the while.

Sora was quiet, the incentive to tell this kid to go fuck himself nearly overwhelming. Who the hell does he think he is, talking down to him like that without even knowing him? Instead, Sora tried to smile, partially amused that a stranger would act the part of a parent or older sibling to another stranger. And then he did something that surprised even himself.

"My papa died yesterday. His funeral was this morning," he said miserably. The boy smirked, thinking it was cute the way Sora called his father "papa." It seemed so antiquated like the black and white films he used to watch as a small child.

"Death is but a means to a higher existence. Or a lesser one, depending on how you view it. An eternal slumber," he stated forthrightly. No emotion was betrayed in his voice, other than the angelic face that retained its continuous serene gaze towards the massive body of water. He didn't appear the least bit sympathetic about Sora's loss or grief.

"Yeah, thanks a lot. It really helps to know that my papa will rot in his sleep and never awaken again," Sora retorted sarcastically. What was wrong with this kid? A simple, heartfelt "I'm sorry for your loss" would have been sufficient. Of course, what did he expect from a complete stranger? Kindness? That he actually gave a shit about his life and the people in it?

As if reading his mind, the boy looked genuinely contrite and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your father's passing. I can be a bit of a douche bag sometimes. Again, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," said Sora, accepting his apology. Maybe it was just difficult for certain individuals to share sympathy with others, he mused. Then again, it was weird enough that he was willing to divulge this personal information with someone else, somebody unknown to him. He presumed this eagerness to be a sheer need to unburden his issues onto someone else for a while. At least this boy didn't seem to take notice, and if he did he didn't appear to care.

"This may sound super corny and cliché, but my papa was my hero. Literally too. Once, when I was eight years old, he took me to my favorite place—this beach. I remember he was going to teach me how to swim in the deep end; he was an awesome teacher, better than any of my teachers at school. He got called away to do something and told me to wait until he returned, but I was so excited and confident then...

I was trying to surprise him by showing I could teach myself how to swim in the deep end, but I got a terrible cramp in my leg and panicked, almost drowning until a friend of mine saw what happened and rushed to get help. My papa jumped in without the slightest hesitation and rescued me. For a few minutes I blacked out, and he had to do CPR. It was some years before I was able to swim again. And now, when I need him most… he's gone. Just gone."

Sora glanced at his enigmatic companion through his peripheral vision; cheeks burning with embarrassment at disclosing all this personal information he really had no business knowing.

"You know, it's kind of funny. Here I am telling you all of this crap about me and my papa and I don't even know your name," he laughed sheepishly, gazing at the sand in self-consciousness. The boy held out his hand during his introduction.

"It's Riku. Riku Ishikawa," he chuckled, smiling charmingly.

"Riku? That's a beaut—er, cool name." Sora shook Riku's hand, noting he had a firm and almost possessive grip. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new here?"

Riku nodded. "Yeah, my father and I moved here a few days ago. We don't get out often, which is probably the reason why you haven't seen us yet. Actually, come to think of it, I don't live too far from you. Just three houses down on your side of the street."

"How do you know where I live?" asked Sora, a little disturbed and wary at hearing that this stranger knew where he resided already.

"Hmm, maybe that's because I live three houses away from you and I've seen you sitting on your porch before? Not to mention you hang out a lot with that brunette chick that always wears a pink dress with a hoodie. You really don't pay attention to who comes and goes in this place, do you?"

"Oh, you must mean Kairi. She's cool. And normally I do, but with my papa having been sick and everything… I guess my attention span has suffered recently."

"Mmm, no shit," Riku said uncouthly. "Hey, mind if I come over to your place and hang out for a bit?"

"W-What? Wh-Why?" Sora stammered with his mouth slightly ajar in confusion. This abrupt question struck him without a hint of warning. Riku imitated Sora's expression in mock surprise, immensely pleased that he was able to disconcert his young brunette companion for the first time since they met.

"So we can get to know each other, dumb butt. Why else?"

"I don't mind, but I don't think my mom would be up for new visitors right now. Not after Papa's funeral, I mean," Sora explained. There was something about Riku that kept him apprehensive, but that incommodious sentiment always disappeared once Riku revealed his charismatic and brilliant smile that could influence even the strictest person.

"I'm sure your mom won't mind. And anyway, I wish to give her my most sincere condolences," he stated, rather reasonably.

"Er, well why don't we go to your house today? We can visit mine later, after Mom is feeling better." Sora practically pleaded in an effort to change directions in the conversation.

Riku grabbed Sora's hands in an attempt to persuade him, brows furrowed with purpose. One way or another, he was determined to have what he wanted. And what he coveted was gazing at him with the most enticing, crystal-blue eyes he had ever laid his eyes on.

"_Please _Sora! I also lost a parent at a young age. To be able to see your mother and apologize for the injustice that's happened to her and you would mean _everything _to me!"

Sora smiled amiably as he looked at Riku with compassion and empathy. Riku also comprehended what it meant to lose a precious parent. How could he not permit someone so considerate of another's feelings to not send their condolences if they so unwaveringly desired?

"Alright Riku. You can come over."

That was all it took to initiate the beginning of an intriguing and nearly perilous relationship.


	2. The Offer

"Mom, I'm home!" shouted Sora, locking the door behind him to prevent the air-conditioned breeze from escaping. There was no answer and he searched around the house for any signs of life, abandoning Riku to scrutinize this new and yet familiar environment.

The house was no different from any other houses on the street, it being inconspicuous. And like any other home it had its personal objects—framed family photos, appealingly colored walls, and esthetic furniture among other things—in order to make it comfortable and modest. It was a rather average home, decent-sized, and with a backyard large enough to fit an in-ground pool.

Riku carried a photograph with a nicely designed silver frame into the living room, examining meticulously the smiling people that gazed back at him as if he were a reason for their joy. Obviously it showed Sora and his parents. Sora resembled his mother more, his father's hair the shade of a raven's feathers and generous emerald eyes that reflected his passion for his family and life in general. Riku didn't know why, but a pesky feeling made him slip the picture out of its protective casing. Turning it over, he found the words 'Never surrender your faith or your ability to forgive others' scribbled in fancy cursive. He scoffed. Forgiveness? Now that was a concept he despised. There was no forgiveness from where he came.

Sora walked in from wherever he had been just then, noticing Riku holding the photo that he and his parents had taken on his tenth birthday.

"They had finally gotten over an argument," he said. "Mom was cheating on Papa, and he found out about it through a good friend that went way back to his college days. It took a long time before he was able to forgive her for what she'd done to him. On that day, my tenth birthday, he forgave her and they made up. That's why they look so happy, it's because they connected again. It's funny because what I had wished for came true that same day. I guess wishes really do come true when you want them bad enough."

"What about you?" Riku asked.

"Huh?"

"You said your father was able to forgive your mother for what she'd done to him. But what about _you_? Surely her infidelity didn't just affect her husband."

"Oh," replied Sora, uneasy with this direct line of questioning. "Honestly, I didn't know what to think at first. I just couldn't believe my mom would betray my papa like that. I have to admit I had considered committing suicide a couple of times. But it's in the past now!" he claimed, a little too loud and quickly. "Anyway, if you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss it."

"Alright, Sora. We don't have to discuss it _now_," he complied, putting mild emphasis on the last word. If he hadn't stated it in such an affable tone, Sora wouldn't have disregarded it.

"By the way, where's your mother? I've yet to see her."

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember her telling me earlier that she was going to be with our next door neighbor for a while and not to wait up for her. She's pretty good about letting me stay home alone… as long as I don't kill myself or burn down the house in her absence, that is!" Sora and Riku exchanged amused expressions, laughing.

"Well, since I'm here, do you mind if I see your room? You can give me the grand tour of this fine edifice later."

"Yeah, sure!"

Sora felt genuinely happy and at ease for the first time since his father's funeral. Even though he had grown suspicious of this mysterious guest before, that old circumspection had shed and transformed into a newly found intrigue and excitement instead. He led the way toward the stairs and Riku followed closely behind, eyes fixated on the younger adolescent's mobile form, not concerned by these mutual surroundings.

Sora opened a door on at the far end of the hallway on the right, almost with a flourish. "And this, my dear lad, is my sanctuary." He tried to imitate the voice of someone from the medieval era, bowing as he made a welcoming gesture with a wide arc of his hands. For a moment he appeared embarrassed by his playful nature, and then it disappeared as soon as it had exposed itself. Riku chuckled and entered without comment, analyzing Sora's typical dwelling place for an adolescent his age.

"So… what do you think?" Sora leaned against a wall half obscured with various band posters, arms crossed as he gazed at the azure carpet's unchanging pattern of black squares, glancing at Riku every once in a while as if waiting for his approval. Riku stayed silent for a couple of minutes before impassively stating, "It's nice."

Sora grinned timidly. "Thanks. Papa helped me design it… I miss him so much."

"I'm sure you do. But don't despair. I know a method that'll take your mind away from everything. A way so you won't feel alone anymore," Riku said rather cryptically.

"You do?" Sora doubted it, but if there was even a slight chance to heal, or at least ease this undying pain, then he would accept it without reluctance. He knew things would never be the same again, but that did not deter him from trying to replace the missing pieces. And here, a young man offered this fragment of hope, a possible opportunity to begin anew.

Riku smirked inwardly; another victim ensnared by his charming web that granted hope and a sense of respite to the despondent and downtrodden ones. To Sora he was a savior, a means of diversion. To Riku, he was nothing more than a boy toy, an extreme obsession. Love failed to integrate into his vocabulary, beliefs, or lifestyle. If only Sora had been aware of this clandestine information, then maybe he would have demanded Riku to leave, never to return again. However, that was not how it worked. There was more in store for him that would test his resilience, things that separated the humans from the inhuman.

Riku slowly strolled over to the door, shutting and locking it in place. He stared at Sora with sly and calculating jade eyes, a portentous smile oozing across his angelic face.

"Yes, I do. Are you ready?"


	3. Your Heart Belongs to Me

People have moments they wish they could erase from memory. When they glance back in time they can view the problem and the suggestions that cultivated it much more clearly. Between the passing of a precious parent, their guide to their final resting place, and a child's insurmountable grief, Sora had not been lucid enough to avoid a mysterious stranger, who seemed to desire nothing more than to console a shattered family.

If only he had seen the signs, then maybe he could have forestalled this dream from becoming a train wreck of a nightmare.

Sora drew away in self-preservation as Riku slowly approached him. Apprehension gnawed at his cognizance, fear prickled his flesh, bile swelled in his throat making it harder to breath, anxiety combined with an odd enthusiasm caused his heart to palpitate insanely. In his desperation for a source of a calming respite, he had temporarily forgotten that this was not the first incident that beleaguered him with these crippling emotions. Two minutes later, the words he was unable to speak just gushed from his mouth in tremors.

"Wh-Why are y-you doing th-this?" Sora was weeping at this point, knees buckling as they hit the stationary bed behind him. He crawled even further away until he was completely on the bed, searching for the opportunity to flee but his body would not comply with his mental directives to remove oneself from an escalating situation. Paralyzed, he could only watch in horror as Riku climbed on top of him, tying his delicate wrists overhead with the black leather belt firmly secured around his slender waist.

"R-Riku," he whimpered, eyes darting side to side in the hope of finding something he could reach to hit Riku with. But his hands had been restrained well and moving meant knocking Riku off, an effort he would not attempt in fear of the elder boy's reaction.

"Sssh! Don't be afraid, Sora," he soothed, placing a gentle finger over Sora's lips to quiet his pleading voice. "These past few days I've been watching you. I noticed how much pain you were in, especially when you thought about your father. And so, I said a secret vow that I would force you to forget everything, except me."

Sora's eyes widened. He had been _spied_ on. Guess those unsettling feelings of being stalked weren't as imagined as he had presumed them to be. Knowing this, something still didn't connect right in his mind…

"Wait… If you moved here just a few days ago, then how did you find out about my father so quickly?"

Riku sucked his teeth, obviously tickled by the younger boy's ignorance.

"_Really_, Sora?" he asked, feigning incredulity. "In a town this size it doesn't require much time for rumors or gossip to spiral uncontrollably. And besides, your father—though not famous—was very popular among the good-hearted citizens in this backwater town of yours."

Sora listened intently as Riku explained all of this with mere simplicity as if the information was not worth elucidation. He began removing his shirt and Sora's as the latter struggled beneath his weight; for a lean body he was rather heavier than he appeared. The pants were just as easy to discard onto the floor beside the bed, until two naked figures displayed their near perfection of impeccable skin and physique.

"But let us save the chatter for our next meeting, shall we? It's time I give you what I came for."

Riku extracted a yelp from Sora as he pulled on the brunette's hair, forcing his neck back in order to create a path of mischievous licks that exchanged for pecking kisses that scorched his skin. An erected nipple agonized beneath the merciless pinching and yanking between lithe fingers, another being drowned in saliva as Riku's alluring tongue gyrated around the little pink flesh. He actually was not one for foreplay, but if he wanted anything from the younger boy—a pleasurable experience—then he would have to first stimulate his innocent body so it could satisfy his necessities.

Sora arched his back in what seemed like a sore position as the elder boy traced the powerful muscle protruding from his maw along his slightly muscular stomach, a keen gasp fleeing as Riku immersed his tongue into his lovely umbilicus that shot an electric charge to the sweet and yearning genitals lying impatiently in the nether regions.

"Oh my," cooed Riku as he noticed Sora's erected member that nearly prodded his stomach. "We don't want to keep it waiting any longer, now do we? It would be an injustice to both of us."

He smirked as he roughly grasped Sora's pulsing member, yanking on it so hard it felt like he wanted to rip it out. He chuckled maliciously at Sora's agonized scream, hushing the young boy as he alleviated the pain with a smooth, but firm massage, reaching for the round sacks concealed in a frightened state behind it to relieve those as well. The mixture of pure anguish, confusion, and euphoria were ruthless against his senses, intolerable.

"Please… stop," he implored between breaths, sobbing miserably.

_Why is this happening to me again? What have I done? Why me?_

"Don't worry. This won't be long," Riku reassured. As an afterthought he leaned in close to Sora's ear and whispered, "This time."

Before he could react, Sora felt himself being elevated onto Riku's lap, his still constricted arms embracing his neck. One minute it was relaxing, but the next one granted discomfort as he experienced Riku's taut and pounding member pierce his insides, each violent thrust that smacked against their skins extracting another harsh yell from Sora. In a short and futile attempt at revenge, he leisurely scratched his nails as far along Riku's back as the leather belt would permit, a strained grunt escaping from him. However, this sound was not just signifying pain but carnal ecstasy. Yes, Riku is known by a certain few for his sadistic and masochistic propensities.

As Sora predicted, the seme's thrusts grew to be more violent in rejoinder, each one amplifying in its ferocity until Sora floated on the border of consciousness and completely blacking out. But Riku had no intention of releasing the brunette that benignly. No, he wanted to have a bit of fun, some entertainment before it finished. It isn't as enthralling if the victim is out cold.

"Sora, I'm home! Hey, are you listening to me? Sora?"

"Uh oh! Looks like Mommy is home. Whatever shall we do?" he asked mirthfully. He knew Sora would rather die than have his mother witness this horrid scene. Riku could visualize it transpiring in his mind's eye as if it were already going down, the thought revitalizing his gradually depleted vigor. After all, it was so entertaining when others were watching the show.

Riku embraced his sex partner tighter, practically squeezing the life out of him, and whispered lecherously, "What do think, Sora? Should we give her a sight she'll never forget? Her beloved husband is dead, rotting six feet beneath the ground for maggots to infest his every orifice. She is a cheating slut, and now she'll come to discover that her only son is really a licentious fag. I wasn't surprised to hear that she's kind of a homophobe, a beautiful woman such as herself. Even in beauty there lurks an abhorrent wickedness therein. I wonder if she'll disown you from the family. Let's find out."

Sora shook his head vehemently, crystal-blue eyes wide and brilliant with tears of pleading. A part of Riku is willing to let the boy go as he licks away the salty, diaphanous liquid. Finger-crawling his way into Sora's soft, spiky hair he wrenches his head back, smothering their semen that had exploded on each other's body on the smooth arc of his neck, observing in joy the manner in which Sora's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows anxiously and laps the natural substance clean from his tender flesh.

To finish their playtime, he brusquely massages their obstinately erected members until they nearly shout as a fire blazes throughout their aching forms, cum finally spurting to soil their stomachs and chests respectively. The rhythm of approaching footsteps reverberates within the halls. Riku reluctantly releases Sora from his grasp, throwing him once again to a laying position. He then proceeds to get dressed promptly, not bothering to liberate the silent brunette from his binds. No, he has another plan where he is concerned.

Sora, entirely exhausted from the day's events, does not put forth effort in writhing to escape as Riku impassively drags him by the binds and into the bathroom, placing him into the bathtub carelessly as he turns the hot and cold water knobs to their full range. He rummages through the overhead medicine cabinet filled with expired prescription bottles, switching to the sink drawers instead. Once he found a pair of scissors, he walks over to the still half-conscious Sora and slashes a thin line on both his wrists, and one on his neck, setting the scissors in their final resting spot—Sora's right hand.

"Your heart belongs to me, Sora."

Those ominous words persistently echoed in Sora's ears even as Riku made his escape through the open window. He did not look back; there was no need. When he returned Sora would still be there, his presence tangible and hovering like a phantom. However, the same could not be said for his sanity. Riku could not resist the strong desire to smile.

The gears are finally in motion.


	4. Still Crying

**A/N: **So how is it so far? Ok? Honestly, I don't know where I am going with this. In the previous chapter, the whole slashing of the wrists scene was nothing but a spur-of-the-moment thing. Fortunately, like many of those moments, it has led me to an idea I would have never considered. Sorry, I was a bit lazy when writing this chapter. Anyway, I appreciate all of your encouraging reviews and plan on trying to keep your wonderful minds intrigued to the best of my ability. And so, I present the fourth chapter of Love For A Serpent.

XXX

The Hikari residence had been quiet with inactivity all morning. Sora arrived home earlier that afternoon from the Destiny Island public high school, not able to concentrate on or stomach the monotonous discussions within his routine classes. He kept replaying in his mind what had happened two days ago, his body and mind numb from incomprehension and moderate shock. Why would Riku do something like that? Surely there is a better reason other than to just force Sora to be his forever?

Sora wandered into the kitchen in hopes of finding something decent to consume—despite the fact he didn't have much of an appetite—and discarded his heavy backpack on the floor with a soft thud. His mother, Leila, sat at the long mahogany table in silence, gazing at the ocean in the distance. Trepidation flashed in his eyes fleetingly as he stared at his mother, who appeared to be in another one of her spells. Sometimes it would take hours before she snapped out of it and returned to reality. A steady river of tears embedded dry marks into her immaculate skin as they fell from her honey cheeks.

"Mom, are you alright?" Sora inquired prudently, sitting across from her with a pack of crackers and peanut butter. A glass of cold, refreshing chocolate milk stood tall amongst them. Indifferently, he smothered a cracker beneath the creamy and oily substance, scraping the peanut butter that refused to be swallowed from the top of his orifice with his tongue.

"Why did you do it, Sora? Why did you try to kill yourself again? Just tell me why," she whispered, pain contorting her angelic face.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, Mom. I must've told you this a million times already. Give it a rest already, please," he pleaded, somnolent from classes and this repeated conversation they'd been having since that incident.

"Is it because of your father's absence? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?" she asked, raising her voice a little higher than she intended.

A beat passed. Sora remained silent, tentative as to whether he should inform her about Riku finally. But if he did, then that also meant he would have to tell her about what had happened between them on that day. Fear of Leila's reaction discouraged him from speaking what could possibly be the termination of their fragile relationship. Sora isn't sure how much longer he can shelter this tormenting secret locked away without exploding. He had to talk to somebody before it introduced him to the edge of insanity.

"I remember that horrid scene in your old middle school, how those boys—those _demons_—ganged up on you… raped you… and left you _all alone_, crying on that _disgusting_ bathroom floor. My baby… just left there like that for only god knows how long. Thank god they caught those bastards that hurt my baby, but those _images _won't leave me. You were never the same after that horrific incident; you never smiled or laughed the same anymore. Your absolute trust in others also changed—you became more suspicious of people. And then… and then, I found you on your bed, sleeping—or that's what I had assumed—but you wouldn't wake when I called your name. It wasn't until I shook you that I saw all of the blood, everything was stained—the sheets, the mattress, you… I figured the therapist we had sent you to was helping… but I guess not. You haven't overcome that pain yet, and now with your father's death… it's just too much to endure!"

Leila was sobbing and wailing miserably at this point. There is nothing Sora can do to console his mother, and he had no desire to do so. Memories swarmed through his mind at lightning speed, a headache starting to form. She was correct; it was too much to endure. He had enough grave issues without having to tend to her needs as well. All of this weeping and acrimonious trips down memory lane—he could live without all the bullshit. He merely wanted to proceed forward in his life and achieve great aspirations that he had promised his father he would accomplish before he perished. However, staring at his mother with mixed aversion and guilt, he couldn't repress the feeling that he had partly failed his father already.

_I know I promised him I would take care of Mom. And I want to. But how can I when she chooses to continue dwelling in the past? I wish you were here, Papa. You would know how to fix this, how to heal our damaged family._

"Mama, what happened… it has nothing to do with you or Papa," he said reassuringly, hoping to calm his mother.

Who was he fooling? Sora recoiled as Leila suddenly smashed her fists onto the table, cracking the decorated surface and sending a glass vase spiraling to the floor, an acute melody of shattered glass reverberating throughout the dining room. Long strands of brunette hair that had lost its healthy radiance, despite its owner's beauty, cling to her neck and face while damp beads of sweat glistened on her forehead through overgrown bangs. Pretty russet eyes dilate in pure rage.

"Yes, it does! Do you think a mother forgets something like that? Do you? Dammit Sora, don't you _ever _tell me it has _nothing_ to do with me! DON'T YOU EVER TELL ME IT'S NONE OF MY FUCKIN' BUSINESS! SORA!"

That is his cue to leave. Sora shot up from the chair he sat on, moving so swiftly he knocked it back by accident, and rushed out the front door to embrace the liberating sky and invigorating ambiance of the ocean's salty-sweet breaths. He sat in the stillness while sucking on the luscious juice of a Papou fruit, tears gathering in his eyes but rejecting their freedom to the sand awaiting their moisture beneath.

The world spins diligently, people suffer and survive, seasons come and go in cycles, but nothing changes.

"Still crying I see."

Sora did not have to look up to recognize such a charming and venomous voice. But he glanced toward the sky anyway, and desperately wished he had run away the moment he sensed someone approaching. Because at that moment, his breathing became shallow and all that had transpired a few minutes ago had entirely been disregarded. Sora realized he ceased breathing and exhaled a routed sigh.

No, nothing changed at all. Not a damn thing.


End file.
